


maybe I'm too busy being yours (to fall for somebody new)

by lost_n_stereo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, but not really because Bellamy isn't a jerk, sexy times but not PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_n_stereo/pseuds/lost_n_stereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moaning starts at eleven fifteen.</p>
<p>She doesn’t notice at first, since she tends to get into the zone when she’s working, but she can’t miss the first bump against her wall that moves the desk so much her flat screen monitor almost tips over.</p>
<p>“What the fuck?” she mutters to herself as another thud causes a picture frame to fall off of her desk and onto the floor.</p>
<p>That’s when she hears Bellamy’s voice, smooth and deep, telling whoever he’s with that it “Feels so fucking good.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe I'm too busy being yours (to fall for somebody new)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is loosely inspired by a New Adult novel I read once called Wallbanger (Alice Clayton, it's good ya'll check it) which is basically PWP about a woman with an asshole neighbor that has a shit ton of sex and he's a real jerk and then they get it on. This is vaguely similar but Bellamy isn't an asshole, he's actually very sweet. Title is from "Do I Wanna Know" by The Arctic Monkeys
> 
> Prompt: “Could you please move your bed a little further from the wall I’m trying to work” au.

She moves in on a cold Saturday in November, her mittens dangerously close to falling off as she lugs a box of books up the steep steps leading to her new third story apartment.

“Need some help?”

There’s a good looking guy coming up the stairs behind her, a pair of glasses sitting just a tad askew on his nose, and he smiles brilliantly at her when he reaches the step right behind her.

“Actually,” she says as she shifts the box from one hip to the other. “That would be amazing. I’m on the third floor though.”

“3C?” He asks and she narrows her eyes a little, suddenly wondering just what she has agreed to by accepting his help. “Don’t worry,” he says with a laugh. “I’m not a stalker, I live in 3B. Your apartment has been empty awhile is all.”

“Oh, okay.” She thanks him when he takes the box out of her hands and lifts it easily, his muscles hardly straining under his grey Henley. “I’m Clarke, by the way.”

“Bellamy Blake,” he says brightly. “After you,” he motions with the box and she flushes a little when she starts climbing the stairs towards the next floor. It’s a very steep staircase, probably due to the fact that the building is as old as the city itself and she suddenly feels very self conscious about her ass being directly in Bellamy’s face.

“So how do you like the building?” Clarke asks, mostly as a way to distract her from the fact that this very gorgeous man is inches away from her behind.

“It’s great,” Bellamy says and she believes him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to lie for no reason. It’s not like he owns the building or gets anything out of telling people it’s a nice place to live. “We have a lot of older people on our floor so it’s not really that noisy.”

“That’s perfect,” she says and she pulls her keys out when they get to her door. “I’m a graphic designer so I work from home. It’s nice to have peace and quiet when you’re trying to work.”

“Totally,” he agrees, waiting for her to motion him inside before he steps into her apartment. He sets the box down next to her couch and smiles. “You look pretty moved in but if you need anything else, I’m just right next door.”

She only blushes a little when he shoots her a wink and small wave before heading out the door and presumably over to his own apartment.

It takes all of three days for her to absolutely hate Bellamy Blake.

***

The first night in her new place goes by smoothly.

She manages to get all of her office put together on her first day, because if she doesn’t have a place to work she doesn’t have a way to pay her rent so really, it’s even more important than her bedroom or the kitchen.

The antique desk she bought from a tiny shop in the Bronx is pressed up against one wall, a plush purple desk chair resting in front of it. Funky art prints that she’s collected over the years are hanging on every wall and the Hello Kitty clock her dad insisted would be bring her years of good luck is hanging right above the door. The wall opposite the door is taken up by floor to ceiling bookcases and she fills the shelves with horror mysteries and random knick knacks. The room just feels like _home_ and she adores it.

Her assignment for the week is for a local brewery so on her second night in the apartment she pops open one of the samples they sent over and settles in at her computer to work. It’s almost ten at night, she tends to be more creative the later it gets, and she’s got top 40 music playing softly in the background as she messes around with fonts and color schemes.

The moaning starts at eleven fifteen.

She doesn’t notice at first, since she tends to get into the zone when she’s working, but she can’t miss the first bump against her wall that moves the desk so much her flat screen monitor almost tips over.

“What the fuck?” she mutters to herself as another thud causes a picture frame to fall off of her desk and onto the floor.

That’s when she hears Bellamy’s voice, smooth and deep, telling whoever he’s with that it “Feels so fucking good.”

Her thighs clench automatically, her body a fucking traitor, and she can feel herself getting more and more turned on as the noises from Bellamy’s apartment get louder and louder.

A female voice begs for him for more, and Clarke is listening so intently that she practically jumps out of her chair when there’s another thump against her wall. She scowls and swears under her breath as she double saves her drafts in a new folder before shutting down her computer, slamming the door to her office behind her for good measure.

She’s still pissed when she falls into bed an hour later, and more than a little buzzed from the decidedly delicious free beer samples she’s been drinking, but she can’t help herself when her hand dips under her blanket.

Flashes of Bellamy’s face enter her mind while her fingers work her clit but she pushes them away. The last thing she needs is to develop some stupid crush on a guy that’s obviously in a relationship and has no problems with fucking someone so hard they knock picture frames off of tables.

The orgasm helps calm her nerves but it mostly just fuels the fire.

By night three she’s ready to call the cops.

Or the landlord. Or maybe the news because how can one man keep it up for as long as they have been going at it for?

The interesting development is that it’s not the same girl as the night before and Clarke only knows this because this girl is speaking Italian while Bellamy pounds her into the wall.

Clarke is glaring at the shared wall between their apartments as if lasers are going to suddenly shoot out of her eyes and burn Bellamy’s bed to the ground.

“Più veloce! Più duro!”

Clarke rolls her eyes, even though she’s getting wetter by the minute, and reaches into her desk drawer for her ear buds.

She plays old school Madonna as loud as she can, gritting her teeth every time her desk is pushed into her stomach, and focuses on the project she only has three more days to finish.

There’s a two day reprieve, when she’s actually able to get some work done, but then Thursday night, like clockwork, he’s back at it again.

She could just let it go, because her project is finished and she really doesn’t have a reason to be in her office until she gets another job, but by now she’s to the point where she just doesn’t give a fuck. The throbbing between her legs is nearly a constant when he’s got a girl over and she’s gotten herself off more times this week than she has since she broke up with Lexa in college and was single for three months.

“This motherfucker,” she says when she hears a shatter come from her office and she sees the picture frame of her and Wells at their high school graduation cracked on the floor. “Oh, hell no.”

It takes him almost a full five minutes to come to the door and when he finally does she’s practically seeing red.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?!”

She’s practically shrieking and he’s standing there, half naked in a pair of basketball shorts with his hair curly and messy and freckled skin and six pack on display. His glasses, which she’s not even sure fit him, are hanging off his face as he stares down at her with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry?”

Clarke growls as she pokes a finger into his chest. “Almost every night since I’ve moved in you’ve had a different girl in your bed. And trust me, I’m not one to judge. Hell, I’m sure if I didn’t have so much work lately I’d be getting laid too. But do you not know just how loud you are? How you, apparently, fuck so hard that you’re knocking things off of my desk and breaking them!”

Bellamy cringes when she holds up the picture frame. “I did that?” He at least sounds regretful and Clarke calms down a little and huffs.

“Yes, you’ve been interrupting my work all week.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You work in the middle of the night?”

“Actually yes,” she says petulantly but its then that she realizes he’s raising his eyebrow at her outfit, not her work hours. Her arms cross over her chest, which is covered only by a tank top she’s had since high school that is far too small for her at twenty three. Her legs are bare except for a pair of sleep shorts with a cupcake and heart pattern that suddenly feels ridiculous and she’s barefoot.

Not her finest hour.

“I’m sorry,” he says and his eyes soften a little he looks down at her. “I didn’t realize it was that loud. You have to remember, I haven’t had a neighbor on that side for months. I just forgot to tone it down.”

“Bellamy, what’s taking so long?”

They both look behind him as a leggy brunette sidles up to him, and Clarke can guess by the accent that it’s the Italian girl from the other night.

“I’ll just let you get back to it,” she says, suddenly very aware that this girl looks fucking stellar in what appears to be one of Bellamy’s flannel shirts and nothing else, and he gives her a look when she turns to go home.

“Clarke, wait.”

But by the time he steps out of his apartment she’s already closing her door.

***

They fall into a weird schedule routine, where she works at night and she only ever hears soft moans coming from his apartment early in the afternoons and sometimes in the morning.

Every once in awhile she’ll hear him groan and now that she’s seen him half naked it’s impossible not to think of what he might look like in the throes of passion. Strong tan arms holding himself up over her, the freckles on his shoulders close enough to count with her tongue.

She finds herself thinking of him when she’s in the shower, or in bed, or lying on her couch watching reruns of Gilmore Girls. Sometimes she’ll slip her fingers into her panties and she’ll end up panting his name and then immediately get pissed at herself for indulging in a crush on her neighbor.

They pass each other in the halls often and she will blush when his back is turned. She’s heard him get off so many times that she feels like she knows him much more than she really does.

Clarke’s working in her office one night when there’s a knock on her door. A look at her Hello Kitty clock (which, _thanks dad_ , she thinks because she’s been getting steady work since she moved in) tells her that it’s almost midnight.

She grabs one of Wells’ Yale hoodies that she stole from him their last Winter break and tugs it on as she looks through the peephole of her door. Her breath quickens when she sees Bellamy standing there holding a paper bag, no glasses but hair messy, as he sort of fidgets like he’s not sure he should be there. She just smiles as she watches him and when he glances towards his own door she realizes he’s seconds from bolting.

“Hey,” she says easily as she opens the door and his grin is full of relief when he sees her.

“Hey,” he smiles. “I know it’s late but I figured you were probably up and working. I had a late shift at the museum, thought I’d see if you were hungry?” He holds up the paper bag and sort of gestures to it with his other hand.

“What’s in the bag?” she asks, but she’s already opening the door and he grins at her as he walks past her. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a sweater that looks so soft she wants to run her hands up and down his back and when he passes she can smell the spicy cologne he wears sometimes that makes her knees weak.

“Chinese,” he says as he sets the bag onto the coffee table. “Are you a vegetarian or anything? Because there is meat, like, all up in this.”

Clarke laughs as she sits on the couch and motions for him to take a seat next to her. “No, not a vegetarian. My dad taught me to love a good steak.”

Bellamy smiles fondly as he starts pulling containers from the bag. “Your father is a smart man.”

They talk as they eat. Clarke learns that Bellamy is an older brother to a sister six years younger than him that he practically had to raise because their mom passed away when he was seventeen. He’s a museum curator, mostly he’s says because he was a history nerd and it was the only way to turn that into earning a decent salary. He’s twenty six going on fifty five because he’d rather stay in on a Friday night watching WW2 documentaries than go clubbing.

“Except for your trysts,” Clarke says and immediately flushes when Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “I mean, old men aren’t really known for their sexual prowess.”

“And just what would you know about my prowess?” he asks, a small smirk playing across his lips.

Clarke knows she’s probably ten shades of red but she’s never been one to step down from a challenge.

“The first week I lived here you were like...,” she struggles to think of a comparison. “I don’t know, the Energizer Bunny or something. Different girls every night…”

“Two.”

She frowns. “Two what?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes before taking a bite out of an egg roll. He doesn’t answer her until he’s chewed and swallowed his bite, which she appreciates, but she also wishes he would just answer the question.

“Two women. Not different women every night. You make me sound like some sort of floozy.”

Clarke cackles when he holds a hand up to his chest like he’s scandalized. “Okay, _two_. But you were still at it like-“

“Bunnies.” Bellamy finishes the statement for her and Clarke nods. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Bellamy rolls his eyes again and she huffs. “What about your prowess?”

Clarke flushes deep again. “Lately? It’s a little nonexistent.” She’s certainly not going to tell him that for the past few weeks the only action she’s had is her hand (and various toys) and that he’s usually front and center in the fantasies that drive her over the edge.

“Well you’re gorgeous,” Bellamy says bluntly and she almost chokes on a piece of orange chicken. “Any guy…”

“Or girl,” she points out quickly and Bellamy nods in understanding.

“Or girl,” he amends. “Would be lucky to even have a chance with you.” He licks his lips and she watches the movement intently, her hand folding into a fist at her side.

“So these women,” she starts carefully, because she’s not sure exactly what the situation is. “Are they your girlfriends?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I’ve never been that great with the whole boyfriend thing. Sofia, she’s the one you sort of met, is a woman I met when I studied in Rome for a semester. She recently moved to the city and we started seeing each other again. Raven is just a really good friend. Sometimes when she’s single and we’re drinking we get a little…playful.”

Clarke nods, as if it’s totally normal to have two regular fuck buddies. And she guesses it is, for some people. She’s just always been a relationship kind of girl. First Finn in high school and then Lexa in college. There have only been a few rare one night stands in between.

Now with Bellamy sitting so close to her, his fingertips toying with the edges of the throw blanket that sits on the back of her couch, she can’t think of anything she wants more right now than him.

“Bellamy,” she starts but before she can say anything he’s moving closer to her, his hand coming up to rest against her neck and she gasps a little when his eyes flick from her eyes, down to her lips and then back again.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he says seriously but he waits until she nods a little before he actually presses his lips against hers. “Jesus,” he says as he licks into her mouth a little. “You taste so fucking good.”

Clarke giggles as she moves closer to him. “It’s the schezwan chicken,” she says and he chuckles as he moves her so she’s straddling his legs. They both groan when he pulls her down onto him and she can feel him, hard and long, against his jeans.

“It’s just you,” he says as he kisses a line down her neck and over her breasts. “I always knew you’d taste delicious.”

“So you’ve been thinking about this?” She can barely get the words out, she’s breathing so hard, and she moans when he nibbles at the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Every night since you came banging down my door,” he says with a laugh. “In those ridiculous cupcake shorts.”

“Hey,” she says without any real heat. “Those shorts are adorable.”

“You’re adorable,” he says with a grin as he picks her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. “What I really want to know though,” he walks them into her room and drops her unceremoniously onto her bed. “Is how you look when you come.”

“You’ll have to tell me,” she says and bites back a groan when he pulls her shorts off her hips and gets on his knees beside her bed.

“Oh, I plan to.” He gives her a wicked grin before dipping his face between her thighs and she doesn’t even have time to doubt him because she’s so wound up from weeks of accidental foreplay that she comes almost instantly.

“Damn, I thought you tasted good before,” he says as he laps at her folds, his tongue running circles around her clit until she’s gasping for him to stop because it feels so good she might die.

“I’d ask if you have condoms but I think we both know the answer to that question,” Clarke teases and Bellamy smirks when he grabs one out of his wallet.

They moan in tandem when he pushes into her and Clarke honestly feels like she might black out when he rocks his hips in a way that gets him deeper than anyone has ever been.

Afterwards, when her head is on his chest and he’s running his hand up and down her sides, she asks the question that’s been in the back of her mind since he kissed her.

“Does this make me number three?”

Bellamy’s hand stills on her side before he pulls her up so they are face to face.

“Have you heard me with anyone lately?” he asks and she has to think about it but she can’t honestly remember the last time she heard someone in his apartment.

“So you’re single?” She says with a smile and he laughs.

“I’ve always been single.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Bellamy kisses her, quick and wet and dirty. “You’re not number three,” he says, his lips brushing against hers between every word. “It’s just you. Has been for awhile, actually.”

“I thought you weren’t good at the boyfriend thing?”

He smiles fondly as she tucks herself into his chest. “Maybe I was just waiting for you.”

As far as answers go, it’s a pretty fucking good one so she kisses him to let him know.

“You’re better at this boyfriend thing than you think,” she says before sliding down his body. “Remember you asked about my prowess?”

He nods, his breathing a little uneven as he watches her move down through hooded eyes.

“I think it would be better demonstrated.”

He grounds out her name when she wraps her lips around him and later, when her headboard hits the wall so hard she can hear books falling off her bookshelf in her office, she’s not even mad.

“We’ll pick them up tomorrow,” she tells him breathlessly and he just laughs against her lips as he brings her to the brink again and she hardly even thinks about the mess after that.

Totally worth it.


End file.
